Radio, Live Transmission: A 28th Anniversary Retrospective on 103.1 The Buzz And It's Lasting Legacy On South Florida
(Pictured Above: 2008 Logo for the Buzz Bake Sale, WPBZ’s annual music festival)
While the station signed off the FM airwaves in 2011, its impact, disappearance and legacy remains prominent to this day.
There is one constant to which you cannot deny; in some facet, in some way, FM radio is heard at least once a day.
Be it in your local coffee shop while you wait for the frother to cease its hissing, inside of a Lyft or your own car, in a retail store (RIP to almost all K-Mart’s) or even perhaps in your own workplace, the medium itself is the oldest driver and receptor of auditory media consumption.
And while there are some television events that will forever be integrated into the ever growing, and increasingly strange fabric of reality, it can arguably be stated that none are as special as radio transmissions.
Think on your childhood. How many of those memories are associated with one of your parents driving in their car, blaring some of their favorite songs with the windows down?
What songs were playing in the background of your first kiss, the volume turned down just enough to hear and feel those first precarious breaths as you both leaned into the unknown?
What songs did your family member have on in the kitchen as they began dinner prep, and you took in the scents and sounds of what would influence you later?
Or maybe your own experience is similar to this particular writers: anxiously waiting to press record as you counted down the minutes to 7pm on a Thursday night. Because this night, tonight on an evening in late September of 2006, when The Killers “When You Were Young” is going to be premiered on The Buzz during Dropping Trou with Ross Mahoney. Finger hovering right over the record button of an old (but reliable) ocean blue boom box. You’ve checked the tape inside about a dozen times, and now you’re just waiting for this Green Day song to finish so you can click it.
Finally, you hear the queue come on for the segment and you mash the button. It’s the World Premiere of the first single from the follow-up of the Las Vegas act and though it’s more than likely being premiered across the country, it somehow feels special. It feels like this is the debut of it on your home station, and the rest of the country can wait.
The special thing about radio, is that every experience is unique. And while every community may or may not have their own rallying call, 103.1 The Buzz, call sign WPBZ, made it somehow feel like this community was the best damn one.
“I was working with a radio consultant at my current station at the time, who was also going to be the consultant for The Buzz. “ says Jason Davis, one of the original DJ’s at the station and host of the weekly Buzz Light show every Sunday morning. “I had expressed my desire to work at a startup modern rock station in a cool market to that consultant before. So when this station was being formed, he had me in mind and recommended I send in an audition. I did, and the program director, Amy Doyle, heard it and thought it was awful. She called me and told me so, but said I came highly recommended by the consultant so she wanted to give me another chance. I sent in another audition tape and she liked it, flew me down for an in-person audition, and made me a job offer before I flew back home.”
WPBZ operated in West Palm Beach from 1995 to 2011, being not only a stalwart beacon for alternative music as the sole provider for newer alternative and rock music in West Palm Beach, but provided a rallying point for the entirety of Palm Beach County.
“Everyone who worked there was young and trying to figure out life.” said Dan Stone, who also worked as a DJ on the station and now works as a voice actor and audio producer. “The music and city kinda felt the same. It was where I started to learn production on a DAW which gave me a career as an imaging director and eventually voice actor.”
In addition to the myriad of radio personalities, the station also held the accolade of the Buzz Bake Sale, starting in 1996, with the tagline being 13 bands for $13. The first ever line-up cultivated artists Evan Dando, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Primitive Radio Gods, Butthole Surfers and more onto Coral Sky Amphitheater’s stage.
During its 16 year run, the lineups grew to include Green Day, Reel Big Fish, Foo Fighters, Drowning Pool, Our Lady Peace, Muse, My Chemical Romance, Chevelle and AWOLNATION, to just name a small few of the headliners that graced the bill throughout the years.
“A memorable moment with an artist (there were many) was at the after-party of the '97 Bake Sale and we were standing around having drinks with Green Day.” replied Davis, who is now based in Atlanta as the News Producer for WSB-TV. “I (or someone) asked the singer, Billie Joe Armstrong, if we could snap a photo. When it came time for the pic, he unexpectedly leapt into my arms. So in the pic, I'm cradling him with a shocked look on my face. Good thing he's a wee little fella and I didn't drop him. Unfortunately that was back in the olden days before digital cameras and the hard copy of the photograph is long lost.”
(Pictured above: The logo for the 10th Year of Buzz Bake Sale in 2006)
“Probably my proudest moment was staying on the air for 36 or 32 hours straight to raise 10k for Forgotten Soldiers. It still upsets me that the only thing people remember was the Handlebars bit.”, said former Buzz DJ Tre Nation, who now works with SiriusXM as an Imaging Producer. “Also, this may not be my proudest but it's one of the things that affected me the most. Standing on stage at Bake Sale and listening to John O’ Connell (Program Director for the station) thank the listeners and say good bye. I still pull up that video on YouTube every now and then and it still chokes me up to this day. I think we all knew what was going to happen, but we didn’t dare say it to each other. I remember walking back stage with Ross (Mahoney, former Buzz DJ and current Regional Vice President of Audacy Alternative) and out of nowhere he told me he loved me. Most would have thought that to be weird but, I knew why he did.”
The station also held sessions such as Buzz Lounge, a special in-studio acoustic performance by an artist. While the performances were broadcasted on air, a select number of listeners would also be allowed in studio to watch the performance, as well as a short interview between the band and one of the DJ’s.
The below performance, uploaded to YouTube of Yellowcard’s “Ocean Avenue” was one such example.
“Working with the other DJ’s & managers, we were truly a TEAM. A band of brothers. And we got to do basically what we wanted.” said Metal Mick McCabe, who was the Production Director for 16 years with the station, and is still involved with the radio industry today. “With the Alternative format, the weirder the better! John (O’Connell) and I really pushed the boundaries of poor taste and humor with the station imaging. ‘Why is it 103.1 The Buzz always sounds better to the hooker tied up in your trunk?' comes to mind…."
Some of the station’s hijinks and various other clips, including the earlier mentioned Buzz Lounge are still available to watch on the station’s archived YouTube page, buzz103 .
“What made the Buzz great was the freedom it gave its staff to say and do what they thought in the moment to entertain and connect with an audience. The world has become so politically correct that those freedoms have all but been taken away from broadcasters and instead lives in the world of un-regulated podcasts.” answered Mark Rider, former Buzz morning show host who now works as a VA and whose credits also include narration for National Geographic and various commercial campaigns such as “Into The Spiderverse”.
“I’m not sure it would work in WPB.” Nation responded, when asked if he felt a station could operate such as WPBZ did in the current market. “The Buzz came on the air before WPB and Treasure Coast grew into what they are now. That hometown audience has been diluted. Too many people have moved away or just outgrew the music. They have also been replaced by new residents that aren’t necessarily going to support a rock station. A lot like Miami and Ft. Lauderdale. Now it would probably work in a market that’s a bit isolated like a Buffalo or Rochester NY. No one is moving to those places and no one really leaves.”
Since WPBZ’s sign off on December 5th 2011, the city and county remains without a true local alternative or rock station which incorporates newer acts into its rotation.
Currently, the only locally based station within the city range and county remains 98.7 The Gator (WKGR), and while a more modern song does occasionally grace the airwaves, it's playlist caters mostly to classic rock for both this generation and its predecessor.
“I was there for the sign-off. I was the DJ tasked with telling the audience that 'this is it'. I got to thank them and speak from the heart for a little bit. It was very emotional. I played the last song on the air before it switched to the pop station.” elaborates Davis. “The last song was a sweet full-circle moment, Midnight Oil "Beds Are Burning." I smile every time I hear that song since then. The people who were going to launch the new pop station were gracious and allowed me to be in the studio alone for my last break. And I started the song and remained in the studio with it nice and loud for about half the song as I choked back tears. I left the studio, went down the hall, closed an office door and let those tears go. It was like mourning a loved one.”
Since the hole left by the station, there have been an occasional few music festivals to take up the place of an annual local alternative music festival, but none have truly lasted.
Rock venues itself have come down to only perhaps half a handful of major players for smaller acts, which include Respectable Street in Downtown West Palm Beach, and both Propaganda and Bamboo Room in Lake Worth. The lack of a rock radio station in the county has resulted in a ripple effect which has reduced the live music market for Southern Florida to arena shows with exorbitant prices (resell tickets for My Chemical Romance’s sold out show in Fort Lauderdale were upwards of $400 for nosebleed seats, and near double the amount for other closer areas), and a lack of attention, desire and traction for local acts in the area.
A trend which Broward publication New Times noted in their tributary article following WPBZ’s sign-off. “Concertgoers will soon start to notice that fewer and fewer tours will come our way. After all, why should agents book tours to an area where there is apparently no rock market and no avenue to help in promoting? Not everyone uses the internet to find out what concerts are coming to their area; radio has a hand in that one, as well as bringing the sounds of new music to our ears we otherwise would not have known about. A lot of smaller alternative artists may not have had a fan base in South Florida if not for the Buzz giving them the necessary spins for listeners to discover them and venture out to experience them live.”
This may also attribute to why the stations fans remain loyally dedicated to this day, almost 12 years since its last transmission. The Facebook group, REMEMBER Buzz 103.1, currently has nearly 900 active members, with past personalities of the station often active on the group as well.
(Pictured above: Logo for the station from its inception to it’s final sign off)
“What a unique time. Maybe the last time in American history will a format of music be so powerful in uniting an entire generation of listeners. The music was like a drug that we all couldn't get enough of. We lived it, thrived off of it and needed it to be complete human beings learning how to grow up in such a strange time.” Rider continued, when asked of the experience working with the station.
“It was a thrill for me. I love the fact that I got introduced to, and introduced so many others to, bands that were unheard of at the time and ended up being some of our lifelong favorites. I waved the 311 flag proudly since The Buzz first started. Those guys are still chugging along with a loyal fan base 30 years later.” Davis stated.
There are still glimmering beacons of hope around the country for flagship alternative stations.
In the San Francisco Bay Area, Live 105 (KITS) returned to the airwaves on June 5th of this year, two years after going off air, when it was changed to Dave FM. And former Buzz DJ Ross Mahoney, as Davis states, “has been the King of Las Vegas radio for years now, and rightfully so.”
Davis continues. “These days I listen to a public radio station out of southern California, KCSN. They aren't 90's alternative rock like The Buzz was (hardly any station is these days, which makes sense). But they aren't beholden to ratings, so they can play what they want. It's very eclectic and they have lots of great specialty shows. You're not going to hear hard rock like Tool or Rage or anything. But you might hear some obscure Talking Heads, into Marley, into Garbage, into Jack White, into brand new Depeche Mode, into some new band you've probably never heard of, etc. You never really know what you're going to hear.”
Stone adds “I wish people demanded more from radio instead of letting corporations and hedge funds call the shots. It’s a public trust and citizens could put pressure on the government to demand more live local content.”
Nation elaborates further. “Terrestrial radio is still the dominant platform. The reason people seek out other platforms is because of commercials and the fact that terrestrial radio lacks personality and won’t take real risks with new music and artists.”
“Radio as an industry destroyed itself when it decided that it was more important to focus on websites and apps than it did the connection between itself as a product and the consumer.” says Rider. “The clock is ticking like it has been for a long time now. Radio as we knew it doesn't even exist anymore except for a few big major markets that still employ real people that actually live in that town. Even though I am the station voice for over 30 radio stations around the country, I would be shocked if real personality radio is ever really a thing again."
The legacy that WPBZ instituted into the hot concrete of Florida remains a timeless and irrefutable staple. And it’s a token that the former personalities are thankful for.
(Pictured Above: Buzz Bake Sale 2006 Staff Photo, courtesy of Jason Davis)
“I’m incredibly grateful to have been a part of that station and its staff and to have experienced the leadership of John O. I'm also insanely thankful for the support and loyalty of the Buzz listeners. If my career would have ended with the station like it did for some, I would have considered my career incredibly successful. I deeply miss each and every one of you”, says Nation.
Davis adds, “I had so much fun hosting Buzz Light for all those years. Sure, it sucked to get up early most every Sunday (sometimes still "buzzed" from Saturday night) and drive in. But it was a true open format. I could play what I want, play any request I wanted. Add any new music I wanted. It was a blast.”
While it may be a more personal opinion, and perhaps even biased, it is an undeniable fact: South Florida has some of the most passionately driven music fans, and fanbases, of anywhere in the country.
It may not be the small-town hotspot that Washington is, or the underground chic that New York has always carried, but Florida is one of the most powerful markets.
Take out the tourism, strange animals, Florida Man and mounting news headlines against the state and look at its demographic.
Here are the young and in-between generation: a group which stands on a sinking piece of land that may very well be the next Venice, Italy. But we stand on its soggy, mosquito infested and sandy shores, supporting all our friends' bands.
We go to shows, even if our backs hurt and we have work the next morning. We mosh, sing our hearts out under a humid veranda of stars and then drive through the traffic the next day.
We wear band tees in the summer despite the fact that Gildan shirt brand clearly wants to kill us, because who else will rep these bands? Where else can we broadcast our love for new music, acts and show our passion for those acts which shaped our youth, along with the Buzz?
Local and national acts, once they come to the state and most especially West Palm Beach, seem to make a valiant effort to try and come on back once they do. Because they see a crazy, tired and passionately diverse group of people, who just want to sing the words we had etched in our hearts, right back to the people who gave us the words to begin with.
As Dio once said “The world is full of kings and queens, they’ll blind your eyes and steal your dreams, it’s heaven and hell”. And strangely, it encapsulates Florida pretty well.
Whether the FM radio will ever blast alternative once more, we carry that little piece with us.
The FM radio, playing softly in the background, narrating some of our favorite moments. In the car, in our room, and kitchens.
And where there’s a kid, getting excited to hear their favorite song on the radio, is hope for the next wave of possibility.
“The love and honest to God passion for this station is undeniably one of the most timeless things I have ever been a small part of and I am wicked proud to have been a part of such an amazing time in radio in West Palm Beach.” Rider stated. “There will NEVER be a tighter group of people who respected and understood each other more.”
-Jenelle DeGuzman
Additional Links:
The archive Buzz YouTube Page can be viewed here: https://www.youtube.com/@buzz103/videos
New Times full article, “RIP The Buzz 103.1 -- Goodbye South Florida Rock Shows?” written by the New Times Staff can be read in it’s entirety here: https://www.browardpalmbeach.com/music/rip-the-buzz-1031-goodbye-south-florida-rock-shows-6426023
The Wikipedia page for KITS, which has a partial and condensed history of the station can be viewed here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/KITS
The REMEMBER Buzz 103.1 Facebook Group Page can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/242324635833984/
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RUN.
Dr rabbit design belongs to @//stillangelxx (account is currently gone so it's slashed out, I'll update it once they're back!)
I think about this design constantly I love it sm- hope Angel doesn't mind me drawing it while she's not around,,, just a surprise for when they get back!
anyway ignore the lyrics I just needed to fill space lmao
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solar wanted to know what this art would look like if i did the fancy metal shading on tViking's arm. i delivered.
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some (very late) white day themed [pregame] saimatsu!
i meant to upload these sooner but i was figuring out scanning and. i think its. pretty obvious im still figuring it out. but! they're not too bad i think. ill figure it out as i go LMFAO
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From a thread by Twitter user @mykola:
Ok, so, the following thread is going to be dense. I have a model of what I call "Identity Trauma" that is not exclusive to Neurodivergent people but so common among us that almost nobody can actually see it.
Let me tell you a story.
When you are an infant, and you have needs that other people don't understand, nobody will be able to meet those needs.
And so you grow up, from a very early age, with the empirical, evidence-based understanding that parts of you are not valid.
Those parts don't shut up, tho!
Maybe you're an Autistic kid whose hearing is so hypersensitive that it's physically painful to you to be around your (large, joyful, boisterous) family.
Maybe you're ADHD and your emotions are so strong that Everything! Feels! Extreme! Always!
Whatever it is? It's not welcome.
And like, you try over your early life to communicate to people about this thing. And they don't believe you. They tell you "sometimes people are loud when they're happy, it's ok, don't be scared!" or they tell you "stop with the dramatics, you just want attention."
Every attempt to inhabit your full self is somehow curtailed, cut short, and you receive anywhere from a tiny bit to a WHOLE LOT of Shame for it.
This leads to cognitive dissonance: do you listen to the part of you that says "this can't continue", or your caregivers?
(And remember, you're like six.)
The choice, for a sadly enormous percentage of us, is to trust our caregivers.
They assure us we're fine. They assure us everyone deals with this, that if we just try a bit harder then we'll be okay.
That part of us that's screaming? We start to wall it off.
It turns out we've got a lot of really useful construction material laying around in the form of shame.
Every time that pain tries to get out? It gets shamed back in. So we just finish the process, seal it in.
Bliss.
Relief.
We can't hear the screaming anymore. We can now focus on making sure we trust our caregivers, instead.
Except.
By walling off that voice, that pain? We've walled off our relationship to our body.
But something VERY IMPORTANT lives there: our identity.
Your identity is who you are. It's everything you know to be true, everything you value, everything you feel. It's the name for the sum total of the enormous Thing that you are.
One part of that thing is letting you know about unmet needs. But it does so much more.
It answers every question you need to ask yourself.
How does it answer them? By thinking about it? No. It uses embodied, somatic, axiomatic knowledge.
This is important, read this a few times:
It is not cognitive.
It doesn't feel like thinking.
It feels like feeling.
[…]
Emotions are one of the ways our body communicates with us. With one exception, emotions are signals from your body to your self.
That exception is shame.
Shame is the only emotion that originates externally. Shame comes from other people instructing us to feel it. That's it.
And if you are cut off from your body?
It is literally the only emotion you are really in touch with.
And so you organize your WHOLE LIFE around it.
Listen, this model I'm describing? This is codependency, right? Because what's happening: your "core" self, your embodied axiomatic somatic source of truth, is gone. So your identity is not grounded in your body.
Where is it grounded?
In the approval of those around you.
If you're dealing with this shit, I will now perform a magic trick and tell you something about yourself that you will realize you have always known but that nobody has ever pointed out before.
There's a special class of relationship in your life. It's not friend, parent, lover or anything else you'll find a hallmark card for, although it frequently coexists with some of the people in these roles.
But the special class of relationship you have is that set of people that you trust to tell you who you are.
You have complicated feelings about them.
These are the people that you have tasked, often without their knowledge or their consent, to serve as the grounding for your sense of identity.
They are your surrogate embodied self.
And they hold unfathomable power over you.
(This is why we are so susceptible to abuse.)
Healing is in part about taking back those parts of you that you have invested in other people. That was never a gift to them, that was not about love -- that was an abdication of your responsibility to be a PERSON.
It's not your fault. You didn't know.
Your self was taken.
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hi, calling all fanfic writers and readers and also people who have Made Videos for a little help with a potential project.
disclaimer: this is, as i said, very potential and still in the Shiny New Idea stage, i’m trying to determine feasibility at the moment.
so, you know speedpaints, right? as in, timelapsed drawing video with music or narration laid over it. consider the same thing, but with writing.
(the tentative term at the moment is speedfic, which has some precedent being used this way, because speedwriting means something else. but i digress)
the idea is that i would post timelapsed videos of me writing short fics and explain my process, probably focusing on specific elements like worldbuilding, character voice, plot, etc. i could also talk about planning, editing, and maybe some other general fanfiction topics.
this leads me to several questions. the main one, of course, is “would anyone else even be interested in this sort of thing?”
but assuming that answer is yes—there are some logistical issues inherent in doing this with words that aren’t caused by doing this with art, namely the “speed” and “narration” bits, and lots of other fiddly little things.
so i guess i’m just asking what writers/readers would want from a project like this, any preferences as far as video structure/length/content, just anything, really. before i go chasing the Shiny New Thing, i want to know if it’s worth it
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FINALLY had a dream bout heisenberg last night
Wroting thisnout now so i don't forget
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Having ADHD and being a podcast fan is fuckingmmm ok, so I like listening to podcasts. I like the stories, I like the characters, I like whatever the fuck you're supposed to like when you interact with a piece of media. I also like the fact that they're accessible. HOWEVER. I hate actually listening to them which sounds so fucking bad but they're just slightly understimulating that I find myself wishing every second that I'm listening wishing that I was listening to music, because personally I find music more stimulating (by stimulating I personally mean audibly rather than mentally obviously) but like also like I said I get so caught up in them I want to know what happens next, so I can't just stop and listen to music u know.
Anyway I think that's why I torpedo through podcasts because as much as I love listening to them I want to be doing something else so I speed through them so I have the experience of listening to them but also I don't spend weeks listening to them.
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me: "hmm I haven't listened to this album in maybe a decade, I wonder if I will still like it"
the music: Ṟ̴̛̛̘̦̾͋͗̄͐͊̆͛̌̓͒͝͝Ŗ̵̡͚̫͈̫̞̺͇͈͈̰͍̾̄͑́͊̐̓͛͑̈́̑̚͝R̸̢̡̢̢̘̙̙̯̻̗͉̀̉͐̆̃͐̔͊͂̕͜͠Ŗ̴̢̢͍̥̘͉͈͚̳̯̉͗̇ͅͅR̴̡͖̥̞̠̪̪͈̭̭͇̙̽̈̆̃̈́̇̇̇ ̸̱̈̑̅͘͝F̷̬̬̘̩͎̲̼̉͗͊̄̈̆̓̓͆̎̓͆͆͆̓̀̚Ù̵̡̡̦̮̩̗̖͙͚͎̦̫͎̑̿͋̉̆̓̑̂͘͝C̷̛̹̍͗̂̀̈͊̉͘͝͠K̴̨̧̠͙̻͉̙̠̐̇͛̿͐͋̑͗̂̿͠͝ ̵̧͎̣̲̟͍̩͓̱̠̙̺̹̘̈́͋̔̽͛͛͐̓̆̾͑͌̀͘Y̵̨̨̨̼͇̳̝̭̘͕̪̹̘̹͉͔͛́͑͗̀͜O̶̢͖̘͍̺̲̯̪̟̠̟̖͈̲̎̔̕͠U̸̡̮̗̦̦̤̟͔̠̳͙̓͋̏̔̏͜Ư̴̡̜͖̮̭̟͇͊̎̍̉̎̐͗͜͠Ư̴̧̩̮͇̖̳̻̗̭̠̫̣̹͕̽̽͛̏̒̓́̍͘̚̕
me:
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ex-boyfriend simon riley making you admit you still love him if you wanna cum <3
he can be such a jerk sometimes! calling you up one evening, claiming he was just wanting to check in on you and how you know how overbearing protective he can be sometimes, acting surprised when you snapped at him barely after his greeting.
“what has you so frustrated, hm, dove?… christ, can practically feel you seethin’ through the screen.”
you bit your tongue and gave him the truth over the phone; how he shouldn’t be calling you without warning like this considering you’ve broken up, and it’s inappropriate to be labeling you those sweet pet names you unfortunately and unknowingly still adore deep down.
how you don’t appreciate his abrasive bluntness, then again, he should know very well that you never have liked that part about him.
you told him the truth, though you couldn’t be entirely honest with him, in the sense of how fucking needy you’ve become with his absence. for touch and care, proximity and security, and all that.
but you are over him, undoubtedly, and you let him know that.
“yeah, baby, whatever you say…
…bet you rub that little cunt raw every night thinkin’ve me.”
and that shut you up quick.
he hummed in understanding, like your silence was readable.
“poor girl prob’ly hasn’t had any proper attention since i’ve been gone… shame such a pretty thing has to be so neglected, eh?”
butterflies invaded your tummy at the compliment, and you cursed yourself for your hasty, blind acceptance of it. but you can't blame yourself; what girl wouldn’t at least begin to crumble at that voice?
“i’m right, yeah?” he taunted, and it almost made you sick when you caught yourself rubbing your thighs together at his meanness.
“c’mon, sweetheart… you know you can be honest wi’ me.”
and god, was his cocky tone so infuriating; you wanted to reach through the phone and slap his smug face straight for overstepping your relationship’s boundaries so blatantly, and with such a deeply rooted nonchalance in his voice that always had you heated and wet.
“say the word, ‘nd i’ll come over and fuck you right now.”
…which is why you had eventually asked him oh, so nicely:
“please..?”
you could practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, followed by the faint noises of boots hitting hardwood floor and then the clicking of a door’s lock, the obnoxious ringing of keys clanging together.
“just give me ten minutes, doll.”
and now, as he bullies and buries his cock deep in your warm cunt, reaching all those sweet spots you or another man could never even come close to, you can’t really think much of his misbehavior.
truthfully, you can’t think much of anything at all, at the moment.
he had teased you prior to finally managing his way inside you, for god knows how long. his mouth, his fingers, his cockhead; all had brought you to the edge rather quickly, over and over after each other, but he was yet to give you that final push.
he puts his full body’s weight on you, strong pecs pressed up against your heaving, sensitive tits, and his stubble tickling your neck unceasingly. you can’t stop squirming and writhing beneath him, and his hot groans right up against your skin aren’t helping, either.
it’s always been a feat taking his cock, being crammed in your precious cunt almost every night when you two were together, but now it’s been weeks, and you nearly forgot just how big he was.
you missed it, admittedly. all of it; the veins and ridges, the unforgiving stretch. the slight twinge of pain he always hushed with his fingertips pressing your swollen, little clit, or a calloused thumb shoved between your puffy lips to suck on and drool over to distract yourself.
you missed his stamina, his libido. most striking of all, his selflessness in the entire act. he’s a soldier, he serves you right. most times.
“fuckin’ christ, sweetheart… missed this tight, messy thing wrapped ‘round my cock… practically stranglin’ me ‘n with no remorse, eh?”
shit, and you missed his dirty talk most of all.
“gonna fill this pretty, little pussy… keep ‘er happy all night, make up for lost time with my girl.” he wraps his hand gently around your jaw, making your eyes meet his. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
you nod frantically, swallow as best you can, before sucking in a breath. “yeah— yes, please, si… i-i want it really bad… please.”
he kisses your lips with a smile, and then all over the side of your face, up to your forehead. he just can’t seem to stop kissing you.
“tell me, sweetheart. y’wanna cum, too?”
“i do, si—! i really, really do- fuck, please?” you beg and beg, and as much as it turns him on, digs at his heart to just give in, he sticks to his guns and merely adds:
“then say the words, pretty girl,” he coos, making you whimper in frustration. “that’s it, y’know what i wanna hear.”
you huff a whine in response, albeit your breath is strangled when he doesn’t halt his movements for even a second.
you really, really don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
he’s nearly panting himself, big chest and even bigger shoulders rolling upwards with every thrust. “y’ain’t cummin’ til i hear you say it, baby. c’mon, now. jus' admit it, that you still love me.”
he buries his cock to the very hilt, taking your slackened jaw tighter in his hand as he watches your eyes grow even hazier from his pelvis rubbing up against your vulnerable, needy clit. the stern look he gives you tells you he's serious about his last statement, but you'll later swear you sensed a bit of sadness, even despair in his expression.
“i love—” you choke on your own breath, desperate to sputter out the words. “i love you, si…”
and he practically has hearts in his eyes. “you mean it?”
“yes—! yes i do, i promise i still love you, please,” you spill, sounding closer to a temper tantrum than anything. “just lemme cum, please, si… really need it, please, i-i’ve been good...”
he hums lowly, contented, satisfied for once. as if those three words themselves — i love you — are the ones actually stroking his fucking cock. his ego maybe, you’d think, but jesus.
if you knew just how badly off he was beforehand, you never would’ve let him get this cocky and in control.
“love you too, sweetheart.” he kisses your puffed out lips, wipes a tear you hadn’t even noticed was trickling down your cheekbone. “always been my good, patient girl, haven’t ya?”
you nod once more, pinched brows and bleary eyes doubling in severity at his soft tone. simon praising you and being so, so uncharacteristically sweet has always made you fawn after more, even now. especially now.
“tha’s right, baby, you’re my good girl… now do me a favor and cum on my cock for me, yeah? lemme feel every last bit of ya.”
he ultimately resumes moving inside you, and it makes you wonder when he ever even stopped. your brain shuts off when he snakes a hand between your bodies, smoothing over your tummy before his middle and ring fingers quickly find your tortured, little bud. pressing hard, making you writhe with oversensitivity.
he works you over the edge diligently, and embarrassingly fast on your part, taking into account just how long he had edged you for. the sight and sweet noises you make are a dream; a reality he awfully missed, and something no other girl could compete with.
"that's it... easy, sweetheart," he coos softly.
he gives you a moment to come down from your high, softly palming your throbbing cunt to assist in grounding you, but you're barely able to finish catching your breath before he's doing it all over again! resuming flicking at your clit, rubbing you harshly and overstimming you enough to make you fruitlessly jolt and cry out beneath him.
he frowns down at you, damn-near condescending. "again, for me?"
you twitch and moan relentlessly as he gradually coaxes another orgasm from your tuckered body, his cockhead hitting that part deep enough inside you to make you see stars, his hard abdomen pressed against your tummy making the pressure of it all skyrocket tenfold.
the sensation of you finishing around his length once more has him barreling into his own orgasm, and soon fucking his pent up cum deep into your cunt with a few hard thrusts and a grumbled, broken groan right at your temple.
endless praises spill from his lips as everything becomes a blur for you; from the moment he's pulling out of your used cunt—crawling down and giving it and your pretty tits a couple sloppy kisses before briskly redressing himself—to being coddled in bed and squished between his muscular arms and torso.
he holds you so close to him that it makes you wonder why, or even how you could ever turn your back to it. he truly makes you feel like a spoiled doll in this sort of space. a doll with shaky legs, ruined makeup, and half a conscious.
"remind me why we broke up again?" he chimes.
you groan aloud, burying your face somehow further in his chest. "shut up, simon."
he laughs softly, pestering you with even more quick kisses, one after another to the crown of your skull. large hands rubbing up and down your back, moving to knead at your ass and thighs for a short moment. he just loves touching you so much.
“c’mon, pretty girl. let’s go get you cleaned up,” he mutters with an exhale. "how's a hot bath sound?"
you have no time to interject, other than a displeased pout and shake of your head, before you’re being hoisted up on your wobbly legs, then swept up and carried to your restroom when you couldn’t even make it three steps before your knees began to buckle on you.
you’re dizzy, utterly dazed and half asleep as he bathes you. making sure you don’t lift a finger as he works, treating you as nothing less than a princess. your loosened muscles somehow melt even more with his precise touch and strength, and you remember just how much you love being turned utterly numb and dependent on him.
you’re pretty sure you fell asleep the moment you were wrapped in a warm towel, pulled into the strong embrace of his meaty arms, but something he said moments beforehand had stuck with you.
“hey,” he whispered, soapy hand turning you to face him. he leaned in and kissed the area between your brows. “i’ll be better this time.”
“you promise?” you mumbled. your head fell atop your knees, arms wrapped around your legs and keeping them close to your body.
your extended pinky finger made him chuckle a bit, and he quickly looped his own around yours. solidifying his words. “promise.”
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give me names. feminine masculine androgynous idc. yr name celebrity names whatever. these r 4 a poll cause everyone ik either calls me my deadname, my user, or whatever nickname they come up with and i need a proper name to tell ppl instead of "whatever u want bbgrl"
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hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”
i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏
keeping it in the family
wc: 1.6k
cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven
note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced.
“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.”
“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?”
“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”
“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”
“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him.
“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?”
“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”
“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”
“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”
“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”
“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste.
“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke.
“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”
“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.”
“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”
“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.
“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.”
“I think I’d rather die–”
“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?”
“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”
“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.
"That would be so awesome."
“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”
“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki.
“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”
“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”
“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”
“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”
“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”
“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”
“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”
“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.
“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”
"Dude, just ignore them."
“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest.
“You think I don’t get into relationships?”
“Bakugo…”
“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”
“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–
“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."
"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."
“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.
“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles.
“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”
“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”
“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”
“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
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maknae line + unexpected kinks
tags: marking, choking, cockwarming, manhandling, public space, possessive behavior, afab reader for sm
this is for anon who requested a maknae line version of unexpected kinks!!! i mostly write smut for hyung line so this was pretty ballsy of me to write all of the maknaes in one go *__* hope it's readable pls do not throw tomatoes at me i am but a wee silly little writer
hyung line version | buy me coffee? (৹ᵒ̴̶̷᷄﹏ᵒ̴̶̷᷅৹)
HYUNJIN (marks)
Hyunjin hadn't thought he was this possessive.
But while he was fucking you into the mattress, he had accidentally left a bite mark on your shoulder as he lost himself to you and an orgasm. When he pulled back and saw you touch the mark with a dazed look on your face, the sight of it brought up something inside of him.
A deep, carnal need to see you covered in marks made by him and him alone. To see every hickey on your neck and know that it was from his lips. For everyone to know that only he could bruise you so prettily like this.
"Hyunjin," you gasp, "no- no more marks, People- they're gonna see-"
"So," Hyunjin growls against your neck. With his fingers tangled in your hair, he pulls your head back, giving him more space— more access to leave his mark on you. "So what if they see? Then they'll know to back off."
You squirm as Hyunjin's plush lips trail against your strained neck. You feel his hot breath first, then the sting of his teeth sinking into your skin before he sucks on it. It's one of the many, many marks he's left on your body today— from the inside of your thighs to your navel to your neck, but it still has you reeling like it's the first one.
He was going to make sure that he'll have you painted in his kisses, his marks, his bites, so that nobody will ever dare to put their hands in you.
Hyunjin was the painter, and you were his canvas.
JISUNG (being vocal)
"Thank god Hyunjin still had some condoms left.”
“Please don’t—“ you gasp noisily, scratching your nails down Jisung’s back when he shifts and his cock hits just right, “talk about Hyunjin when you’re— god, ah, fucking me.”
Jisung smirks, cocky and smug and annoying when he says, “Can’t multitask, can yo-“ but he’s cut off with his own moan when you squeeze your walls around him tight, making him double over.
“Fuck, babe, don’t do that.” Jisung hisses into your ear, hips slowing down to a stop as he composes himself. “What if I cum too early?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That was one time—“
“And it will never be forgotten.” You smirk, slapping his ass and making him jolt. “Now move, cowboy.”
Jisung sighs exaggeratedly. “I miss the days when you were just starstruck by my cock and would only say I was good.”
You roll your eyes with a snort, locking your ankles behind Jisung’s back, urging him to keep going.
“Well maybe if you fucked me that good again, I might— ah!”
Jisung’s entire demeanor shifts when he grips the fleshy part of your thighs, and your legs lift as he finds an easier position to pound into you. Your back arches at the onslaught of pleasure, but the movement only serves to make his cock press against your sweet spot more precisely, making you keen.
Jisung moves his hands, sliding them up so he could grab onto your waist tight, bringing you back down harder onto his cock. You slap your own hand against your open mouth, attempting in vain to muffle your lewd sounds. It doesn't work.
Jisung watches with a heavy gaze as you make noise after noise, unable to stop yourself from moaning and squealing every time he pounds his cock into you. Every mewl you made was music to his ears, and he wants to hear more.
Your hands scramble to cover your mouth again. Jisung frowns.
“Wanna hear you,” Jisung complains with a pout, lips brushing against the back of your hand as he leans in close. He grabs your hand and pins your wrist to the bed, letting your sounds filter through the open bedroom.
“They’re gonna kill us—“ you manage to say in between groans, writhing as one of Jisung’s hand slides up to thumb one of your nipples. “They’re gonna hear and we’re going to get kicked out—“
“Let them hear." Jisung mutters, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. "Let them hear how good I'm fucking you. Let them hear you scream my name. Let them know I'm making you feel good."
Jisung grunts with each thrust, punching moans out of you. He chuckles then, and with a glint in his eye, holds your wrists above your head.
"Let me hear you fucking scream, Y/N."
FELIX (cockwarming)
When you slip inside Felix's room and sit by his feet, Felix had thought you just wanted some cuddles.
So even though he was in game, he takes a hand off the keyboard to run it through your hair and acknowledge your presence, letting his nails scratch against your scalp. You hum and lean into the touch, then rest your cheek on his lap.
"Keep playing." You had said. "I'm just bored."
And so he did. He kept playing, but his hand came down to stroke your head whenever a loading screen popped up. You were so quiet and so still under him that he almost believed your were asleep.
That is, until, you nuzzle against his crotch.
Felix jerks, and his character in the game dies. When he looks down, you're looking up at him with a sheepish smile.
"I'm bored," you repeat with a pout, and he immediately knows that whatever you say next, he can't say no to. "I just want it in my mouth, please? I'll stay still."
Felix frowns at that, confused. "You'll stay still?"
With a gleam in your eye, you say, "I'll show you," and you tug the waistband of his sweatpants down.
And fuck. He isn't even hard yet, but he's well on his way with how you hold him in your hand, guiding his dick inside your very own mouth. Your hot tongue slides against his shaft, and Felix all but shivers.
"Y/N-" he starts with a hiss, but you're already taking more and soon enough, you've got his whole cock down your throat. It's tight and wet and hot and Felix doesn't understand how he's going to stay still-
But then you're back to resting your head on his lap, cock still in your mouth. You looked like the very definition of sin, drool in the corners of your mouth and cheek bulging.
But your eyes, lidded and dazed, stare up at Felix lazily, like you had all the time in the world and you were going to spend it with Felix's cock in your mouth.
"You're-" Felix swallows. "You're going to stay? Like this? While I play games?"
You nod. It was a minuscule action, but it inched his cock further into the heated canal of your mouth. Felix's head sags back against his chair.
Fuck. He is so going to lose.
SEUNGMIN (keeping quiet)
"They're gonna catch us, Seungmin, fuck-"
"They will if you don't shut up." Seungmin grumbles before pulling you into a kiss. It's so hypnotizing that you don't notice his hand slide down to your shorts, easily undoing the button with one hand before his fingers slip inside your underwear.
The moan that you let out when his fingers brush against your clit is loud, and he bites your lip in reprimand.
"Sorry," you try to whine quietly, even though you were busy squirming at how fucking good it felt to have his fingers rub circles on your clit. "I- ah, ah, wait-"
Just as you let another moan out, noises are heard from outside the door. A beat later, and you can hear Changbin's loud voice and Jisung's laughter.
Your legs close on instinct, but Seungmin's hand between prevented you from closing them all the way. He tuts and pries it back open with his other hand.
You look up at him, eyes wide. "Are you insane? They're right outsi- fuuuck,"
You grit your teeth as Seungmin chooses at that moment to slip a finger inside, slide easy with how wet you are. In desperation to help yourself stay quiet, you grab the edge of your shirt and lift it up to your lips, biting it between your teeth in hopes that it would muffle your sounds.
Seungmin's eyes darken.
The action had exposed your upper body, and just the sight of you doing your best to keep quiet was making heat pool in Seungmin's belly. You even had your fingers pressing against your lips, face contorted, but your hips were bucking into his hand like you'd die if you ever stopped. Fuck. Seungmin was salivating.
You startle when he presses you harder against the wall, at the same time he slips more fingers inside of you. He watches you, shirt between your teeth, eyes wide and desperate, and his cock jumps in his pants.
"You're going to cum for me," he says, tone leaving no room for protest. "But if you make a single sound before you do, I'm leaving you here. Understood?"
You clench around his fingers, and nod.
JEONGIN (manhandling)
Jeongin knew he was strong.
No matter how much he said he hated working out, he still does it diligently, and it showed. However, he's never known to what extent his strength reached.
At least, not until he's got you pressed against the wall, cock so deep inside you that your legs were shaking.
You trembled with every thrust, toes white from how much force you were putting on your feet just to keep yourself up. Jeongin held on to you, of course, but you were fucked so stupid that your arms lost all mobility and were slipping off his shoulders.
Despite the struggle, you were still moaning in his ear, begging and pleading for more. To fuck you harder. To make you take it. So with a lust-addled mind, Jeongin found himself sliding his hands under your thighs, gripping the flesh tight before he easily and quickly hauled you up.
"Put me down-!" You gasp, eyes wide, legs locking around Jeongin's waist on instinct. "Yang Jeongin, are you cra- agh!"
But Jeongin couldn't stop now. There was something about you, helpless, nothing you could do but trust Jeongin to hold you up and just take his cock over and over and over again-
He was in so fucking deep. Your head thumped against the wall with every drive of his dick into you. When he leans in close, you can't do anything else but whimper and look up at him with glazed, teary eyes.
"You want more? I'll give you more." Jeongin whispers, hitching you higher up the wall. You let out a strangled gasp.
"Hold on tight, baby."
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so this is incredibly cool:
Every Noise at Once is an ongoing attempt at an algorithmically-generated, readability-adjusted scatter-plot of the musical genre-space, based on data tracked and analyzed for 6,291 genre-shaped distinctions by Spotify as of 2023-11-19. The calibration is fuzzy, but in general down is more organic, up is more mechanical and electric; left is denser and more atmospheric, right is spikier and bouncier.
apparently this is a tool built by a former Spotify engineer. so for instance, here's a search for Minuit Machine my beloved:
(sorry mobile users)
and then you can see linked genre map:
and if i am like "what the actual fuck is anime cv" i can go listen to it
edit: i did not like it
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re4r leon kennedy x afab!reader (kinktober prompt four - thigh riding)
resident evil kinktober masterlist
wc: 1,302 words
(tags: thigh riding, reader is super clingy and needy, reader is a bit of a brat, rough sex, unprotected p in v, leon fucks reader on his desk, aftercare)
a/n: my writing has detoriated as i am sleep deprived as hell. oof. i at least went back and did some light edits so that it's readable. with that said, enjoy whatever words my fingertips decided to conjure.
Today is the day that your boyfriend returns home from a long mission, and as you hear the clicking of a key, you eagerly leap from the couch as the front door opens to reveal Leon, shoulders slumped from exhaustion but a small smile on his face as he sees his favorite person in the world standing before him. You run over to him, wrapping your arms around him and clinging to him like a magnet. His smile grows wider, the fatigue leaving his eyes for just a moment, and he slips his fingers into your hair as he presses his lips to your forehead.
“Missed you,” he mumbles. You repeat those words back to him, continuing to hold onto him. You nuzzle your head into his broad chest.
“You can let go of me now,” he laughs.
You make a “nuh uh” noise that gets muffled by his shirt. He sighs and picks you up as you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He carries you over to your bedroom, already used to how clingy you are after he returns from month-long missions. “Come on, love, I need you to let go,” he says quietly into your ear once he makes it inside your cozy room, his deep, smooth voice leaving chills on the back of your neck.
“Need you,” you whine, burying your head into the crook of his neck.
“Love, I can’t,” he says, trying to shake you off of him a few times before giving up. “I’m tired and still have to get work done.”
You don’t budge.
Leon sighs. “How about this? I’ll let you get off on my thigh while I write up my report, and if you’re good, I’ll reward you later.”
You pull away from his neck, your eyes lighting up. You finally loosen your grip on him and set your feet onto the soft carpet as he removes his jacket and unbuckles his belt. He walks over to the office chair in front of the small desk situated in the corner of his desk, and once his trousers fall to his ankles, he takes a seat in the chair and pats his bare thigh.
You swiftly pull your shirt over your head–and it’s then that Leon realizes that you intend on stripping yourself bare. Your clothes hit the floor and then you go over to Leon, the cold air hitting your naked body.
As he logs onto the computer and begins his work, you position yourself over his left thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth that radiates off him, and lower your weight onto him. You slide yourself up his thigh to press your body against his, whining in pleasure as his leg provides pressure and stimulation to your clit.
With unsteady movements at first, you begin to grind yourself into Leon, his name falling from your lips like a sweet melody. Your pace grows steadier, and your hushed moans make their way into his ear. You glance down at his boxer briefs, noting his growing erection straining against the confines of the fabric. You move your hand down there to palm him, but he growls quietly and pulls your hand away from him.
“What did I say about being good?”
You bring your arm back around his neck, letting out a huff of defeat as you continue to rut yourself into his thigh. You close your eyes as you rest on his shoulder, fantasizing about him grabbing your hips and bouncing you on his thigh, but you know he won’t give you any attention. Not unless you’re being disobedient, that is…
“Leon, please,” you whine into his ear, “need you.” Your desperate hand makes its way down to the waistband of his boxers, attempting to tug it down, but Leon forces your hand away again.
“Enough,” he says firmly, moving your hand up to his shoulder. You can sense the impatience growing within him. You smirk as your hand makes its way down his chest, feeling every inch of his musculature.
Leon sighs heavily, knowing that you intend to touch him again. He stands up with you in his arms, and next thing you know, you feel the cold hardness of his desk slamming against your back, making the air leave your lungs. You’re surprised he didn’t break the desk.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” he says in a harsher tone than he means to, pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. He slides it down to his knees, taking a moment to spread his precum over his cock before he lifts your legs up and positions himself at your entrance. “How many?” He takes notice of the shocked expression on your face. “You want my cock that badly?” You bite your lip and nod, feeling desire growing in the pit of your stomach despite knowing that he won’t go easy on you for this. “Well that’s what you’re gonna get,” he growls, before pushing himself into you with a long groan. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his size, and tears form at the corners of your eyes.
“Leon, I’m–I’m sorry,” you whisper, but you know it’s too late for his forgiveness. He pulls back before slamming into you roughly–a loud cry leaving your throat. You can’t help but squirm around the desk as he continues his relentless pace, that coil in your stomach building up quickly.
“You asked for this,” he says. His heavy balls slap against your ass with every thrust, the sounds of your moans joining in with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He relishes in your loud cries and quick, heavy breaths, his hips never relenting.
You want to apologize, but your words won’t get through to him. Your head spins as he continues to fuck you roughly, the pleasure building and building. It’s too much, but you need more…and then the words “don’t stop” leave your lips. He grins slightly as he slows down a little, just enough to let you catch your breath. A part of him feels guilt for having been so rough. He doesn’t want to hurt you.
You moan his name so much it seems like it’s the only word in your vocabulary, your walls convulsing around him at around the same time his cock twitches. He grunts as he picks up the pace once more, moving your legs to have them wrapped around his waist as he continues to rock his hips into yours.
You don’t even get the chance to tell him you’re close when your orgasm comes crashing down over you, pleasure rippling throughout your body. Leon is soon to follow, emptying himself inside you with a low groan. Once he’s finished, he pulls out and lowers your body gently onto the desk, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.
“Are you alright, love?” he says softly, running his calloused fingers through your hair.
“‘M okay,” you respond, panting hard.
He pulls up his pants and zips himself up before lifting you from the desk, noticing how worn out you look from just a single round with him. He carries you over to the bed and leans down, kissing you on the forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, brushing back your sweaty strands. Feeling the exhaustion from both the mission and the physical exertion from pleasuring you, he then says, “I could use a nap now–care to join me?”
You nod eagerly, and he crawls under the covers next to you, holding your naked body close to him. He whispers sweet nothings into your ears, just in case he had hurt you during the sex. His warmth engulfs you as you both eventually succumb to sleep.
kinktober prompt list by @flightlessangelwings
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vampire!ellie
synopsis: you met ellie in your university’s ancient library, you were just trying to study and ellie couldn’t help but talk to you. it drove her crazy, the scent of your blood. usually, she didn’t even notice the scent on others. she was so used to it that it didn’t bother her anymore. but you were different, sweeter.
cw: kinda like a mix between tlou and twilight, mentions of witchcraft and hanging, vampire!abby being a ladykiller literally, papa vampire!joel, mama vampire!tess, newlyweds vampire!jesse and dina, dina’s transformation, lotsssss of backstory like i seriously couldn’t stop myself from yapping. not proofread sorry :((((((
a/n: i’m definitely gonna make a series out of this. sorry if this is wayyy too long but i have a special place in my heart for vamp!ellie and her sweet vampire family. ok that’s all ily thanks for reading.
wc: 2.2k
you shouldn’t be walking alone at night, really. campus was a sketchy place. a plethora of bad things could happen. you could get kidnapped, jumped, pickpocketed, or, hell, even bitten by a vampire.
the library had the same scent it always did. it smelled like dust and paper. in all honesty, you didn’t prefer it here. although it was beautiful, tall windows lined with stained glass, large bookshelves with every book you’d ever want, every word you could imagine and more, it was just so eerie. something bad was bound to happen here.
anyways, you settled down at the table in the corner. the one farthest away from anyone else. you’d rather be at home right now, studying in bed. it’s only because your roommate invited her stupid boyfriend over that you ended up here. it’s for the better anyway, though, because in bed you wouldn’t get anything done. you’d be too distracted.
you had your priorities written on your palm, the pen now smudged, making it barely readable. writing on your palm was easier, more convenient than a post-it note. but you wrote it down on paper anyways, incase you sweated more of it off before you finished. it wasn’t likely you would, though. the library was freezing, especially in the winter.
the clack of your fingers typing in your laptop password was the only thing to be heard. everyone else was dead silent. this was probably the only thing you liked about the library, everybody agreed on an unspoken rule, make the least amount of noise possible. you got started with completing your essay after shuffling your playlist, determined to finish by the end of the night.
that’s when she saw you.
or, smelled you? your scent was so strong, it hit ellie hard. her vision went dark and splotchy, and she had to grip onto the table for support. her pearly white hands making a dent in the table with how hard she was holding.
you had to be her next meal. she had to find some way to get you alone and suck your veins dry. it scared her, the thoughts she was having. her intentions weren’t to murder you, but she was starving now. you had unknowingly gotten her high on your scent.
she didn’t even know where you were. were you outside? down the hall? in the library? fuck, right next to her? her head was hurting now, really, really badly. but she needed you even worse.
picking up a random book, she used the most brainpower she could to sniff you out. then, she really saw you. headphones in your ears, your hands typing away at something that won’t even matter soon. soon, she’ll have your body in her arms, hopefully in the comfort of her own home. your neck dripping a puddle on the floor as she relentlessly drank from you, your skin growing cold and your lips turning purple.
her docs made silent footsteps across the floor as she walked toward you. this was something ellie learned to master, silence. especially when she went into hunting mode. nobody looked at her as she expertly dodged the creaks in the old wooden floor. nobody saw her coming. especially you. you never saw ellie williams coming.
“hey, is it okay if i sit here?”
“….sorry, what was that?” you scrambled to pause your music.
“can i sit here?”
“oh. yeah, sure. go ahead.”
you went back to typing, not continuing your music incase she wanted to talk. you really hoped she didn’t. you needed to finish your essay. and you weren’t much of a people person either.
“what are you writing?” she asked.
“just an essay, nothing interesting.”
“oh, cool.”
she started reading the book she picked up before sniffing you out. she didn’t bother to look at the title. or read any of the words either. really, she was just staring at it, her mind racing. she needed to come up with something interesting, something to make you like her.
while she stared at the words, you couldn’t help but stare at her. your fingers came to a complete stop as you admired this stranger across from you. she didn’t even introduce herself, how strange. her hair was a dark brown, her eyes black. her face was incredibly smooth. skin paler than ever, she looked as if she was a marble statue, like she belonged in a museum.
and she was reading twilight, of all books. although, you liked the book, it seemed ironic for her, like she was too mature for it. this beautiful stranger was sitting across from you, her eyebrows pulled together in frustration while she chewed on the inside of her cheek. she seemed furious at something, but at the same time, hard to read.
you were almost scared of her, but intrigued above all else.
“do you like that book?” you asked.
“twilight? yeah. it’s okay. i’ve read it a few times.”
“hmm. it’s a classic.”
“it’s not bad. but i’ve read a lot of books. this one doesn’t come close to the others.”
“so you read a lot? how come i’ve never seen you before?”
“i’m usually hiding. i don’t prefer to engage with others if i can help it.”
“yeah, that explains it.”
she got lucky. thank god, if there even is one, that she grabbed a book you knew about. that you started a conversation with her. she thought it was the most stupid book on earth. it was filth, pure mormon fanfiction. and it was completely wrong.
“why are you here so late? it’s almost midnight.” you asked.
“i could ask you the same question.” she responded.
“i have a lot of work i’ve been procrastinating on. if i could choose, i’d be at home. but my roommate’s boyfriend is there and i can’t stand being in the same building as them.”
“i don’t really know why i’m here. i just like to meet new people i guess.”
“i thought you didn’t like talking to people.”
“that’s different. you’re different.”
“how so? you don’t know who i am, and i don’t even know your name.”
she stared at you blankly. you had her trapped. she suddenly realized that maybe you were harder to get than she expected. maybe you wanted to play this game.
“i’m ellie. it’s short for elizabeth but i hate that name. it’s too common, i’m sick of hearing it.”
“elizabeth is beautiful.”
“thanks. you sound like my parents.”
lie. she didn’t know her parents anymore. they had abandoned her hundreds of years ago after suspecting she was a witch because she refused to get married to a man at only seventeen. after a few years, she was hung.
it wasn’t until her new father, joel, took up an investigation of what happened to poor elizabeth. he ended up traveling to their old village and finding her grave after tracing her obituary back to a newspaper published in 1579.
shed been dead for years. joel was the one who brought her back to life. he injected his venom into her long rotten arms and took her in for the seven years it took for her to come back fully. he saved her. he taught her how to walk, how to speak, how to hunt. joel miller was her new father.
joel used to be a police officer. in 1712, he ran into a poor woman, bleeding and begging for his help. claiming that her husband had turned to satan and was now possessed. the woman had been bitten, she eventually would turn into ellie’s mother, tess. joel got bitten too. all three of them spent the next years as newborns in that small cabin, feasting on whoever was unfortunate enough to wander by.
the woman’s husband didn’t survive. he was caught by a clan of christians and burned alive, leaving just joel and tess, who couldn’t help but fall in love. they adopted more kids before and after ellie too.
abigail was the first. she was living alone in the appalachian mountains, feasting on whoever wandered after sundown. leading poor girls, desperate for a good time, into her bed and then eating them whole. abigail often hung out at lesbian bars. the girls who went home with her never came back. a bartender joked with her about this once, the bartender didn’t come back, either.
joel heard about abigail through the only other coven that lived in washington. they said she was a monster, a relentless murderer trapped in a goddesses body. that she could hold the whole world on her shoulders but couldn’t refrain from eating innocent girls who were cheating on their husbands.
abby and ellie were never really good friends, but they tried. abby preferred to keep to herself. usually either reading or climbing a mountain with her bare hands. and she refused to find a long-term lover. ellie was almost the opposite. she preferred more modern things, like making music and fast cars. and she loved to flirt with girls.
jesse came after ellie. he was born more recently, in 1878. he was dying of a disease nobody knew about. they didn’t have the right knowledge or technology to save him, so they quarantined him in a hospital room until he died. he didn’t, though. joel saved his life. the hospital staff were horrified after seeing the blood stained floor, the splatters over the walls, and more importantly, the fact that jesse’s body was nowhere to be found.
jesse had a wife now, named dina. she met him in 1983 at a prestigious fashion school. jesse had already been to tons of colleges. neither of them aged. they never changed. they were all trapped. after studying medicine, law, physics, engineering, and marketing, he wanted a change.
that’s when he met dina. she was a beautiful woman, deep tan skin, dark eyes, long black hair and eyelashes. and she had such a knack for fashion. jesse was in love, it took him a long while before he came clean to dina about who he was. she was so in love with him too, she didn’t mind it, and she certainly wasn’t scared. dina was never scared of anything.
so they got married. and the night after their wedding, they flew to a private island joel owned for their “honeymoon”. aka, dina’s transformation. they were gone for almost three years. jesse kept a journal of everything that happened to her.
july 12, 1989. i did it. i held her so gently in my arms and sank my teeth into her neck. she was screaming, i know she was in pain, but she’ll never admit it. before she fell asleep, i drank a few of her tears and then closed her eyes. she’ll be twenty six for the rest of her life, until the earth stops spinning. i hope she can forgive me.
december 31, 1989. joel, i got your letter. she’s been doing okay. i can’t stop looking at her, her perfect curves and her deep brown hair. i think it was for the better that i took her dress off before we started, she designed it, it was so beautiful. i know she’d get upset about the red staining the expensive white satin. it’s still here, waiting for her. the year is about to end, we still have quite a few months until she awakes. i’m scared. not of her, of myself. am i a murderer? did i, a cold-blooded demon, destroy a perfect, innocent life? will she remember me?
august 27, 1990. it’s been over a year. nothing, but i know it’s coming. i’ve been holding her head on my lap, stroking her hair. i haven’t moved from this position in three months. she is so beautiful. i redressed her in the outfit she designed for this occasion, it suits her well. a part of me regrets this decision. i wish i could grow old with her, maybe have kids someday. sit on the porch while or grandchildren play in the yard. her eyes wrinkling with the smile she always flashes me. this will never happen. it’s just a dream.
november 16, 1990. she is awake. so much screaming. she’s in pain. won’t even look at me. she is thirsty. will bring her some bird blood to quench her thirst.
november 21, 1990. she only sits and stares at a wall, rocking back and forth. her eyes are white now. don’t know if she is okay. or if she will survive. her throat burns. if she goes, i go.
february, 1991. don’t know what day it is, she has calmed down. she didn’t remember anything at first. not me, not her name, nothing. she remembers now, though. hopefully we can come home this year. i still don’t know if i trust her enough around people. if she is caught, she’ll be burned. if she goes, i go.
may 18, 1991. traveled to a near by island. i taught her how to swim, she loves it. she’s so surprised that she can hold her breath infinitely. she is so beautiful, it’s like falling in love with her all over again. there were people at the island, it was a small village. they were kind, but we had to leave early. i don’t want to push her limits, but she did exceptionally well.
october 4, 1991. on our way home. starting this life forever with her. i hope she can forgive me.
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